Where Flowers Bloom: The Eff You Bouquet
by fiadorable
Summary: Prom season is keeping Regina Mills, proprietor of Fairytale Flowers, busy, but when Emma Swan storms into her store one day with a unique request and a hidden connection, her day shifts from busy to odd to (dare she say it) hopeful. Note: contains brotp outlaw queen and dimples queen. Based on a flower shop au prompt on tumblr.


Regina is in the back of the shop boxing up corsages for the first wave of high school proms when someone sorely abuses the little bell dangling over the front door. She winces, closing the plastic box with an irritated snap. They need an electronic bell.

The low, thundercloud rumble of their customer's voice seeps into the back room, but Mary Margaret is working the front today, it's her turn to brave the rush of last minute orders from the frantic juniors and seniors, and Regina's yet to find a soul who isn't calmed by her friend's matter-of-fact sunshine personality.

So it surprises her somewhat to hear a soft knock on the faded white door frame accompanied by a subtle clearing of the throat.

"Regina, you might want to take this one. She has a... unique request," Mary Margaret says, an impish smile on her face.

Regina finishes cutting the burgundy ribbon wound around her fingers and raises an eyebrow. "A unique request?"

Mary Margaret's smile grows. "I think it's right up your alley."

Hm. Regina sucks her teeth and disentangles herself from the workstation. "Finish these by the time I get back and I'll let you go home early," she says, nodding to the stack of orders.

"I'm on it," Mary Margaret says, plucking a leaf from Regina's shoulder as she slips into the hallway.

Regina combs her fingers through her hair as she walks toward the front and shakes out her black apron, straightening it so the Fairytale Flowers logo is crisp and straight on her chest.

The woman at the counter paces, red leather jacket creaking as she folds and unfolds her arms. Long, golden blonde hair tumbles over her shoulders, snags in the teeth of her jacket zipper, and she yanks it back into a ponytail as Regina emerges with her most professional smile on her lips.

"Welcome to Fairytale Flowers. How can I help you?" She stands behind the counter and rests her hands on the edge of the glass.

The blonde stops fidgeting and unfolds her arms. "I need a bouquet that says 'fuck you' in flower."

Regina smirks. Right up her alley indeed.

Still, flower language goes completely over most people's heads, and she asks, "Is your recipient familiar with flower language?"

"He's fluent in passive aggressive bullshit," the blonde says flatly. "He'll figure it out, and if not, it'll at least make me feel better."

Regina laughs and nods. "Well, then, let's get you set up. How big of an arrangement would you like?"

The blonde leans on the counter as Regina reaches below to grab a new receipt pad. A whiff of perfume washes over her as she kneels, light and sunny, like slipping into the first freshly laundered t-shirt of Spring while pale winter toes reacquaint themselves with last year's sandals and this year's nail polish tones. She drops the receipt book.

"My temper says as inconveniently large as possible," the woman sighs, "But my bank account says under twenty bucks."

"Boyfriend?" Regina asks, standing, mindful that she's crumpling the first three pages of her book, but unable to unclench her fingers. She shouldn't pry.

"Ex. And the father of my son. I make great decisions."

Regina shrugs, releases her grip on the receipt book and smoothes out the wrinkles with her palm. "We all make mistakes."

"And some keep on giving." The blonde stands up straight, holding out her hand. "I'm Emma, by the way."

"Regina."

Emma has a firm grip, a good handshake, and it pleases Regina, the way their hands lock together, respective callouses brushing against warm palms and tapered fingers as they clasp and release. She smiles at Emma, a fleeting wisp of warmth fluttering through her chest as her smile is returned.

"Do you want them delivered or will you be presenting them yourself?" Regina asks, clearing her throat and sketching out a quick design, then listing the flowers she knows are in stock.

Emma hums, glancing to the chalkboard listing their prices on the wall. "Eh, what the hell. I'll have them delivered. Do you have a note card I can fill out?"

"Uh huh," Regina says, reaching for the small stack of cards next to the register without looking up. She starts when Emma's fingers brush hers, and she glances up from her sketch with her heart in her throat (such an illogical place for its furious beat to rest), but Emma's already hunched over the counter, scribbling in a sharp, slanting scrawl.

Regina shakes her head and jots down a figure. _Stop being ridiculous_.

"My son isn't a mistake," Emma says, pen pausing mid-word as she stares hard at the card. "When I said the thing about mistakes that keep on giving, I didn't mean him. He's the only thing I've ever done right."

Regina strikes through the delivery fee on the order form, and then turns to look at Emma. "I have a godson," she says quietly. "I would rearrange the cosmos for him."

"Yeah. That's how it goes." Emma returns to the notecard, having never looked up.

Regina glances to the cash register and the small, laminated photo propped up near the top. It's true, what she said. She'd do anything for her best friend's son. Roland smiles at her from his first school picture in all his curly-haired, snaggle-toothed, dimple-flashing glory. She needs a new one, a more updated photo now that he's eight. Maybe she'll ask Robin when he comes in for his shift in… about five minutes.

She clears her throat and slides the order form over to Emma. "Is this acceptable?"

Emma looks up, squinting at the total, eyes flicking over the design in the corner, and then she frowns. "You scratched off the delivery fee."

"On the house. First time customer discount. If you're okay up here for a moment, I'll run this back to Mary Margaret and have her get started on it."

"O—okay," Emma stammers. "Thank you."

Regina nods, once, and then slips into the back hallway.

 _First time customer discount my ass. Was that too much? It was too much. Stupid, stupid._

"Mary Margaret, can you check that we still have meadowsweet in stock?" she asks, not looking up from the order as she pushes through the swinging door to the back room. "I don't remember ordering it recently."

A blur of green, brown, and yellow streaks toward her, tackling her around her middle and pushing her off balance.

"Aunt Regina!" Roland shouts.

"Hey, monkey. How are you?" she asks, hugging her godson tight.

He tilts his head back and grins, showing off a loose tooth that he waggles with his tongue, tipping it forward at a slightly sickening angle.

" _Another_ one?" Regina glances up, looking for his father, and falters at the sight of him talking to a young teenager, maybe fourteen or fifteen years old. "Who's that?" she asks Roland, nodding her head at his father and the boy.

"That's Henry. Papa's his Big Brother. You know, like a mento."

Of course. She'd forgotten Robin was bringing his Little to work to show him around. The Big Brother Big Sister program is dear to Robin's heart, having benefitted from the mentor program himself when he was a teenager. _Having someone I could look up to, an adult other than my parents I could talk to who would listen and cared about what happened to me helped keep me on the straight and narrow_ , he'd said, and then grinned roguishly, amending, _Well, mostly. Tuck still swears he owes half his gray hairs to me and the other half to my mate, Will._

She'd been flattered when he asked if he could bring his Little to her shop for a few hours at the beginning of his shift, but she can't imagine any of this is interesting to a teenage boy.

"Mentor," Regina corrects. "Will you go give this to Mary Margaret, please?"

She hands him the order form, and he dutifully delivers it to her right hand woman. Mary Margaret thanks him, and heads into the refrigeration unit with a smirk and a knowing look that Regina ignores as Roland slumps back to her side.

She watches as Robin shows the teen around the back of the store, explaining how each step of the process works, pausing here and there to make sure he's following along. He's a good teacher, she thinks. An assistant professor at the community college, actually, patiently vying for tenure. It's slow going, though, so when he needs extra cash he picks up shifts at her flower shop. She's grateful for the help, especially this time of year.

Regina rests her hands on Roland's shoulders and turns him around. "You wanna introduce me to your fake step-brother?"

"Nope."

Regina frowns and leans over until her chin rests atop his head, crossing her arms across his chest in an 'x'. "Why not?"

"Because I'm going through a jealous phase," Roland says with a dramatic, world-weary sigh that imitates his father's exactly.

She snorts and squeezes him tight. "Did you come up with that on your own or have you been eavesdropping on your papa's phone calls again?"

Roland tilts his head back and grins impishly at her. "What do you think?"

"You know better. What if we'd been planning a surprise for you?"

"But you weren't."

"But what if we were?" Regina ruffles his hair and then scoots him forward. "Come on, introduce me."

Roland sighs and walks toward the back of the room, Regina tailing him with her hands stuffed in the long pocket sewn into the front of her apron. Her fingers close around her spare pair of shears, worrying the black rubber grip with her thumbnail.

"Papa," Roland says as they approach. "Regina wants to meet Henry."

Robin turns and smiles, chagrined. "Apologies. Mary Margaret said you were with a customer at the front, so I thought I'd show Henry some of what goes on behind the scenes."

"Don't worry about it," Regina says, shaking her head. "I need to get back to her, actually, but I wanted to say hello, first."

"Of course," Robin says, rubbing his hand across the back of the teen's shoulders. "Henry, this is Regina Mills, my friend, my boss, and the queen of this particular castle. Regina, this is Henry Cassidy, my Little."

Henry smiles somewhat shyly and extends his hand. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am."

"You as well." Regina pulls her hands from her apron pocket and shakes his hand. Firm grip again, short and to the point. "You're welcome to stay and observe as long as you'd like. This may not be the most exciting profession, but we make do."

"She's being modest," Robin says. He pulls the clipboard of deliveries off the wall and skims the list briefly. "Why don't you tell him about the couple who got engaged and unengaged all in the span of one order?"

Regina rolls her eyes. "That was not exciting. It was a headache and a half. And I need to get back up front." She turns back to Henry and smiles. "Don't let him stuff your head with romantic nonsense about the flower business."

Henry cracks a grin. "Don't worry. I'm more interested in the logistics than the lovey-dovey stuff."

"Good," Regina says, winking at him.

She reminds Robin to gas up the delivery van before leaving today, and then checks Mary Margaret's progress in the refrigerator. Receiving the thumbs up, she leaves Robin and the two boys in the back while she straightens her apron again and runs her fingers through her hair before entering the storefront.

Emma is pacing again, tapping the base of her phone against the palm of her hand, a worried crease between her mascaraed green eyes, and Regina's step falters. She'd only been gone maybe five minutes at most. What could have happened to agitate her again?

"Do you have a Robin Locksley who works here?" Emma asks as Regina slides behind the counter and begins ringing her up.

"I do, actually," Regina says slowly, punching in the total amount. "He's my godson's father. Why do you ask?"

Emma leans against the counter, and again Regina catches a brief whiff of her perfume.

Her heart pounds.

"Well he's also my son's Big Brother." Emma holds up her phone. A picture of Henry and Robin fills the screen, mugging for the camera in the back room with the Fairytale Flowers logo on the wall just visible in the background. "I can't let Henry see that order I just put in. Whatever beef I have with his dad, I don't want him exposed to it."

Regina's heart slithers down her throat and sinks into her stomach with a nauseating _plop_. "Shit."

"That's what I said." Emma slides the phone into her jacket pocket again. "Look, I'll come back tomorrow, place the same exact order. I'll even pay today."

Regina shakes her head, opens her mouth to tell her that's not necessary, they'll work something out, when Roland pops his head around the corner.

"Aunt Regina, who ordered the Eff You Bouquet?"

Emma's cheeks darken a delightful shade of peony as Regina turns to face her godson.

"Roland, you know that's confidential."

"Uh huh," he deadpans as he stares at them both. "Mary Margaret says we're out of yellow carnations because of prom. What do you want her to do?"

 _There is an all powerful deity and she is smiling upon me now._ Regina closes her eyes and releases a breath. Crisis averted. The order can't be filled until tomorrow. "Tell her to file the order for when our shipment comes in the morning and we'll send it out first thing."

"Okay." He disappears into the back.

Once he's gone, a small bubble of hysterical laughter burbles out of Regina, hand pressed to her chest as she turns back to Emma. "Close call," she says.

"No kidding." Emma leans on the counter with both hands. "Henry won't find it?"

"No, he won't. The pending orders are kept separate from the orders he'll see with Robin."

"Good." Emma sweeps a stray lock of hair behind her ear and tightens her ponytail, the blush fading from her cheeks at last. "Thank you. For some reason I thought Robin was taking Henry to Storybrooke U's campus today."

"They're just in the back if you need to talk to him," Regina offers, pointing toward the hallway. "I can bring them up front."

"Nah, I don't want him to think mom was checking up on him."

"Of course."

"So, um, how much was it I owe you?" Emma palms her wallet from her back pocket, but before she can thumb out any cash or a credit card, Regina is shaking her head.

"Wait until our carnations come in. I'd hate to have you pay and then we get a bad shipment or late shipment. I can call you in the morning, if you'd like."

Her stomach should not swoop and tumble to see the hopeful brightness peeking through Emma's careful nonchalance, the sudden stiffness of her posture as she's still for the first time since entering Regina's store. Should not, but it does, building until it spreads a slow smile across Regina's lips and nods her head, once.

"Great," Emma says, and breathes a smile that halts the whoosh of Regina's organs. "Well, I'd better go before Henry finds me here. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Regina repeats, and waves ( _stupidly, like an idiot_ ) as Emma leaves the store. Once the blonde is out of sight, Regina slumps against the wall and blows a harsh sigh through her lips. It's been an odd day.

Footsteps creak down the hallway (Mary Margaret, she always hits the loose board, always), propelling Regina upright. By the time the brunette's pixie cut floats into her peripheral, she's wrist deep in old paperwork. Completed paperwork that was already filed below the counter.

Mary Margaret raises her brows as she slips her purse over her shoulder and observes Regina unabashedly. "Everything okay up here?"

"Fine," Regina says, closing the folder and folding her hands atop of it. "Now get outta here before I decide to keep you longer."

"Mm'kay. Have a nice afternoon. And morning," Mary Margaret cheeks, darting out the door before Regina can stop gawping.

"Insubordination," she mutters to herself, sliding the file back into place and straightening up behind the counter.

As she's closing out Emma's incomplete order on the register, a flash of black and red catches her eye. She frowns, plucking a small slip of paper from the top of the machine, near her outdated picture of Roland.

It's a business card, glossy on the front with red lettering on a black background advertising a local kickboxing gym a few blocks away. Intrigued, Regina flips the card over.

 _I stole one of your business cards, so I figured it's only fair I leave my own. Stop by sometime. First class is on me. -Emma_

Regina purses her lips, tapping the card against her palm. So Emma works at a gym. Interesting. A smile breaks through, and she catches her lower lip between her teeth to reign it in as Robin calls for her assistance in the back. She slips the card into her back pocket, and heads down the hallway.

Tomorrow feels brighter already.

* * *

prompt: post/145738369188/flower-shop-au


End file.
